Much had changed.
I sensed that the former Allison Ashton-Baker, now in a collar, might now love. I had the sense that when one is locked in a collar, it is easy to love. One hopes for love, one wants love, one needs love.
But how frightful that one might not dare to express this, lest one be beaten or sold!
Desmond of Harfax, I was sure, thought me incapable of love. He thought me too vain, too petty, too shallow.
He was perhaps right.
But, of course, he found me at least of slave interest. He enjoyed, for example, tying my hands behind my back.
He had reservations, too, I knew, pertaining to some further aspects of my character. But why should anyone be expected to sacrifice themselves, or act against their own best interests? Was that not foolish, stupid, irrational?
What had that to do with character?
Surely a girl has a right to look out for herself.
What is wrong with, say, the theft of a candy, if one may manage it with perfect impunity?
One would not wish to be caught, of course. That might mean the switch or lash, close chains, an unpleasant roping, short rations, a slave box, such things.
She is not a free woman.
Strange, I thought, how a better character is expected of a slave than a free woman.
The masters attend to our character, and are concerned with it, in their training, rather, I suppose, as they would attend to, and be concerned with, the character of any animal, a sleen, a kaiila, or such.
Soon we wish to improve ourselves.
We wish to reflect credit on our masters.
We wish to be worthy of our masters.
I suddenly stopped working the oil into the harness leather, as something on the other side of the wagon had caught my attention, without my really being aware of it.
“How long do you think it might be, before we receive our guide?” asked Desmond of Harfax.
I knew curiosity was not becoming in a kajira, but I crawled a little closer, and listened intently.
“We have received him,” said Astrinax.
I remembered that Astrinax commonly held the late watch.
“Where is he?” asked Desmond.
“He has gone,” said Astrinax.
“How then can he guide us?” asked Desmond.
“Easily,” said Astrinax.
I heard the Lady Bina laugh.
“I do not understand,” said Desmond.
“Our guide,” said Astrinax, “is Pausanias, who recently left with his caravan.”
“Pausanias?” said Desmond of Harfax.
“He does not know it, of course,” said Astrinax. “He is an unwitting guide.”
“And how,” asked Master Desmond, “does Pausanias know his way?”
“It was conveyed to him by Kleomenes, of the hunters,” said Astrinax.
“Then,” said Master Desmond, “Kleomenes, at least, knows the way.”
“No,” said Astrinax, “he does not. He merely conveyed the way.”
“I do not understand,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“Pausanias, of the caravan,” said Astrinax, “had the key, without the lock, so to speak, whereas Kleomenes had the lock, so to speak, but lacked the key.”
“Can you not speak more clearly?” said Desmond of Harfax.
“I think you suspect more than you pretend,” said Astrinax.
“It has to do,” said Master Desmond, “with a deck of cards?”
“Precisely,” said Astrinax.
“And how do you come by these things?” asked Desmond of Harfax.
“I am told,” said Astrinax.
“Oh?” said Desmond. “By whom?”
“By one who sees much but knows little,” said Astrinax.
“And who might be his informant?”
“One who sees little, but knows much,” said Astrinax.
This must be, I thought, Lord Grendel and his fellow, the blind Kur he had brought safe from Ar to the Voltai.
“They have not been with us for days,” said Desmond.
He must know then of the two beasts. He might not know that one was blind.
“They have been about,” said Astrinax.
“You are contacted during the night watch?” said Desmond.
“During some night watches,” said Astrinax.
“I think I will keep the night watch tonight,” said Desmond.
“I would not do so,” said Astrinax.
“Why not?” asked Desmond.
“You might be killed,” said Astrinax. “These are dangerous times, and this is a dangerous place. Serious matters are afoot.”
“As you will,” said Desmond.
“I will tell you something else of interest which has been conveyed to me,” said Astrinax. “Trachinos and his fellow, Akesinos, are outlaws, and lately in contact with their band, recently come from Venna. The rendezvous was to be held, it seems, in the vicinity of the six hundredth pasang stone.”
I recalled the flickering light. Master Desmond had been aware of it, too.
“An ambush is planned,” said Astrinax.
“How many in the band?” asked Desmond.
“Nine, not counting Trachinos and Akesinos,” said Astrinax.
“Your information is detailed,” said Desmond.
“It is apparently easily gathered by an informant with excellent night vision and unusual hearing,” said Astrinax. “Too, apparently the outlaws cooked and kept an animal fire.”
“We cannot well defend ourselves against eleven men,” said Desmond.
“I do not think it will be necessary to do so,” said Astrinax.
“I do not understand,” said Desmond.
“The outlaws will live as long as they pose no threat,” said Astrinax. “It will be in their best interest to abandon their plan. Once they prepare to attack, I fear it will be too late for them.”
“Why have they delayed this long?” asked Desmond.
“Trachinos is waiting,” said Astrinax. “He suspects we are projecting a rendezvous, perhaps with others as rich as we, or that we may lead them to a cache of concealed wealth. The purpose of our venture, as you well know, seems mysterious, even to you and me. Why would one venture so into the Voltai if riches, perhaps a buried horde, or a secret mine, were not somehow involved?”
“I see,” said Desmond.
“They will bide their time,” said Astrinax.
“It is like an ax, which may fall at any time,” said Desmond.
“The ax,” said Astrinax, “may be in greater danger than we.”
“How is that?” asked Desmond.
“We are not the only ones in the Voltai,” said Astrinax.
“I wonder if we are watched?” said Desmond.
“Possibly,” said Astrinax.
“What of the caravan of Pausanias?” said Desmond.
“I have little doubt that it is watched more carefully than we,” said Astrinax.
“How so?” said Desmond.
“It is apparently far more important than we,” said Astrinax.
“Why?” asked Desmond.
“I do not know,” said Astrinax. “But I gather it is of great importance to someone.”
“Or something,” said Desmond.
“I do not understand?” said Astrinax.
“It is nothing,” said Desmond, dismissively.
“I,” said the Lady Bina, who had been present, I gathered on her cushion on the wagon bench, but muchly quiet, “have something of interest to convey as well, but I must ask you to hold the matter in confidence for a time.”
“Lady?” asked Astrinax.
“I am to be the Ubara of a hundred cities, and then, later, when the planet is properly unified and organized, the Ubara of all Gor.”
I heard no response from the men.
“That is what I have been given to understand,” she said.
“From whom, Lady?” asked Astrinax. I feared he and Master Desmond might think the Lady Bina joking, or mad. More frighteningly, I did not think she was either.
I sensed, as naive or unrealistic as she might be, there might somehow be a world at stake.
“Oh,” she said, “someone, but someone of importance.”
I was sure this illusion, or fantasy, had been implanted by the blind Kur who had guested with us in the house of Epicrates.
What was involved here, I was sure, had less to do with the Lady Bina than with one with whom it was thought she might exercise great influence.